


Blood Will Have Blood

by cordeliadelayne



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, Light Angst, M/M, Protective Steve Rogers, Steve taking care of Bucky, Stubborn Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-20
Updated: 2016-12-20
Packaged: 2018-09-10 15:35:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8922727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cordeliadelayne/pseuds/cordeliadelayne
Summary: Steve looks after an injured Bucky.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a Christmas present for the lovely kristen_mara. Set vaguely during Civil War. Title from Macbeth.

Bucky had spent more years on the run than he had living a normal life, so much so that he'd forgotten what normal looked like. It seemed that Steve had forgotten all about normal too, no longer chasing after that pretty wife and white picket fence. Instead it was justice, and honour and truth, and somehow in all of that, Bucky.

He didn't know what he'd done to deserve it. He knew perfectly what he'd done _not_ to deserve it. Every single death was a fresh memory and being told that it wasn't his fault, didn't make any difference. Brainwashed or no, he had a lot of blood on his hands.

And now he was putting Steve and Sam in danger, just by existing. Maybe it was better if he just finished himself off and be done with it.

He looked up at the ceiling, gaze travelling along cracks and spider webs, the usual companions of hide-outs in unforgiving safe houses.

He'd be no help to anyone if his wounds didn't heal soon, the bullet wound in his side saved from infection by Sam's quick thinking and Steve's constant attention. The bullets had been coated with something that was making his recovery take longer than it should have.

“If you can't sleep, you should at least eat something.”

Bucky continued staring up at the ceiling. He'd heard Steve arrive, of course, could practically hear the other man thinking, but he wasn't sure he was up for conversation right now.

Steve, being Steve, ignored the silence and sat down on the edge of Bucky's bed.

Bucky carried on staring up at the ceiling. Steve lay a hand on his leg and squeezed.

“ _Steve._ ”

“Come on Bucky, let me get you something to eat. It's been two days and you've barely eaten anything.” He paused and then when Bucky didn't answer, stood up. “Moping isn't a good look on you. It never has been.”

Bucky shifted at that. “I'm not moping.”

“Really?” Steve sighed. “You think I don't get it, but I do. The weight of everything you've done, everything you've been through. But we don't get to do this, Buck, we don't get to be those people. We have to get up and we have to dust ourselves down and we have to fight another day.”

“I'm not moping,” Bucky said again. “And I don't need the Star Spangled Banner Steve right now, okay?”

He shifted a little and then let Steve help him sit up more comfortably.

“So what is it you do need?” Steve asked. He sat on the bed next to Bucky, shoulders pressed close, gaze drifting from Bucky's eyes to his mouth.

“I appreciate the thought,” Bucky said with a laugh, “but I'm not up for anything too strenuous.”

“Who was talking about anything strenuous?” Steve asked. He leaned forward and kissed Bucky, softly at first, and then more insistent. Bucky melted into it, arm going to grab at Steve and keep him in place.

They moved apart a little and Bucky was gratified to see that Steve was a little breathless too.

“Soup?”

Bucky smiled. He couldn't help it, not with the way Steve was looking at him, like they were back in Brooklyn and nothing mattered but the two of them.

“Soup would be good.”

He shifted again and then bit back a scream as pain radiated from his side. Steve was there straight away, pulling up his shirt, cool fingers pressing along his bandage.

“This needs changing,” Steve said.

Bucky gritted his teeth by way of answer, the pain shooting through him. But he was used to pain. Pain was nothing.

“Try not to move,” Steve said, somewhat unnecessarily. He left the room quickly and Bucky could hear him banging about in the next room, grabbing their makeshift first aid kit and talking quietly to Sam. The main door opened and closed not long afterwards and Steve was back in the room straight away.

“Sam's gone to find some stronger painkillers,” Steve explained.

“I'm not taking anything.”

“Yes you are,” Steve said, pushing Bucky back down on to the bed with one hand and opening up the first aid kit with the other.

“No, I'm not.”

“This isn't a conversation, Bucky. You are going to take something....”

Bucky kicked Steve out of the way, the only reason the leg didn't connect being Steve's reflexes. Steve didn't look annoyed, just resigned.

“No.”

They stared at each for a good few seconds, but Steve knew Bucky's stubbornness as well as he knew his own.

“Fine. No painkillers. But let me at least clean the wound and change the dressing.”

“Of course,” Bucky said. He then lay down again to give Steve better access. Truth be told he was feeling wrecked, eyes struggling to stay open. He'd been on missions where he hadn't slept for three, four days at a time, but now letting sleep claim him seemed like a perfectly good idea. He supposed it was Steve's presence which was making all the difference.

He stopped thinking about that then as Steve's fingers moved efficiently across his stomach, the touch making him remember other, pleasanter times when Steve had done the same. It was hard to believe that he had the chance to be touched that same way again. Provided they made it out of their alive, which was still a big ask.

“It's going to be okay,” Steve said, almost too softly for Bucky to hear.

“You don't know that,” Bucky replied. “You could leave,” he added, ignoring the way Steve's gaze narrowed as he continued speaking. “You and Sam don't need to help me. You could...”

“Are you done?” Steve interrupted. “Good. No more talk of leaving. We're not going anywhere. _I'm_ not going anywhere.”

He finished changing Bucky's bandages and before Bucky knew it Steve was manoeuvring them both so they were lying side by side in the bed.

“No matter what happens we're doing this together, got it?” Steve asked.

Bucky wanted to argue, but he could see that it was going to be useless. And besides, he really didn't want to. Things had always been much better when he had Steve at his side, and since he'd come back to himself Steve's absence had been gnawing away at him.

“Of course we're doing this together,” Bucky said, trying to sound confident. “What else would we do?”

Steve's answering smile was enough to make Bucky feel safe enough to close his eyes and hope that sleep came easier today than it had for many months. The last thing he felt was Steve's hand, pressed close to his heart, a soft kiss atop his forehead and Steve's presence, chasing away all his nightmares.


End file.
